


A Chance Encounter

by demonbarber14



Category: Camelot (1967)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:02:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonbarber14/pseuds/demonbarber14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Damalica sits in the garden, hoping to lure a unicorn and ends up luring something else entirely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Lady Damalica was sitting in the royal garden when she heard a noise coming from behind her. She turned as slowly as possible, considering her excitement, and saw the unicorn staring at her from between two rose bushes. Holding its gaze, Damalica took out a small cube of sugar from her handbag and held it out. The unicorn took a cautious step towards her and she held her breath, silently urging it forward. It took two more steps forward and stopped, seemingly unwilling to proceed. Even with its horn, it was smaller than Lady Damalica sitting on the bench, but its presence was still awe-inspiring. It was so white that it was hard to look at it for a long period of time. It had a silvery mane and tail, along with delicate gold hooves. Damalica stretched her arm out a little further. The unicorn dropped its gaze and started to bend its head, when it stopped sharply. With an almost catlike movement, it looked at the hedge that separated them from the main gardens, then sped off towards the rose bushes that it came from.

Damalica threw down the sugar cube with frustration. It had been nearly three months, three months since she had first heard rumors of there being a unicorn in the garden. It had been six weeks since she had actually seen it for the first time, three weeks since it had looked at her without running away, and a week since it had taken a step towards her. She prayed that the interruption hadn’t set them back by too much. Considering that unicorns lived in some of the most dangerous forestland, she could only assume that it had been startled by a human and not by something small like a squirrel or a bird.

She rose from the bench to see who had disturbed it. She had a theory, but wanted to be sure. She peered over the hedge and smiled in spite of herself.

“Hello, Sir Mordred. I rather fancied it was you.”

“And why is that, my lady?”

“Well, there was a unicorn with me, and it suddenly ran away, and since unicorns only enjoy the company of people with pure hearts, and therefore most everyone in Camelot, it was an easy assumption to make.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do, but if you’d like me to elaborate, there’s a gap in the hedge just there” she pointed. He quickly joined her in the enclosed space. She usually tried to avoid him, since she knew how dangerous he was. It was easy to dislike him in the abstract, a usurper to the throne, a rabble-rouser, a womanizer, and a bad influence in every possible way. Worse, however, was how delightful he was in person. He was strangely beautiful, with his pale skin and blonde hair. He seemed as small and ethereal as her unicorn.

“And what brings you into the garden today, Sir Mordred?”

“Oh, just wanted a bit of fresh air, you know. Oftentimes, the fripperies of the court are too much for me to bear, and today in particular, the smell of food was overpowering What about you? Are you planning on taming all the unicorns in the land?”

She laughed. “No, just that one. I like to read here sometimes, and one day it peeked out from the hedges and we’ve been getting to know each other over the last few weeks.” It was a lie, but she was too embarrassed to admit to her relentless pursuit of its affections.

“Well, I am heartily sorry if I interrupted you.”

“That’s all right. Although” she grinned “I have gotten used to the company, so why don’t you make it up to me by reading aloud to me while I eat.”

“I would be honored, my lady.”

“I’m glad. I might even give you a grape if you’re good.”

“You are far too generous.”

“I know.”

She sat on the bench and he joined her, picking up the book of poetry she had brought. After he read the first few stanzas, he suddenly lay on his back and put his head on her lap.

“Sir Mordred, you are the most insolent man I have ever--”

“Oh, but the sun is so fatiguing, if you want me to keep going with this glorious poetry, I shall simply have to lie down. Do you mind it?”

“No.” She dangled the bunch of grapes she had been enjoying in front of his face. “It doesn’t make you any less insolent, though.”

He took a grape into his mouth and bit into it, savoring its unique flavor. He continued reading, occasionally leaning his head back for grape.

“A little lower, please” he requested when he had eaten all the grapes off the bottom of the bunch and the others were too high for him to simply bite off.

“Ooh, look at Sir Mordred, heir to the throne. When other knights are off fighting or killing dragons or chasing down the Holy Grail, he is too lazy to lift his head in order to eat a grape.” She leaned down and kissed him on the lips to show that she was kidding. “He is beautiful, however, so that must count for something.”

He immediately sat up and kissed her in return. She wrapped her arms around him and he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into her mouth. He pulled back to catch his breath and cupped her face in his hands. She bit her lower lip and smiled at him. She had started out just wanting to have a mild flirtation, but he was intoxicating to be with. Anything so beautiful shouldn’t be trusted.

“I can see myself falling in love with you all too easily, Sir Mordred.”

“I’m starting to feel the same” he replied. She didn’t know if it was true, but she liked the way it sounded when he said it. 

She leaned forward kissed him again. He gripped her arms she groaned softly as he pulled her even closer towards him.

“You know” she murmured between kisses “I can think of some much better places you can put your hands.”

 

            With a smirk, he let go of her arms and moved his hands so that they were barely touching the bottoms of her breasts. She whimpered out of frustration as he slowly moved his hands along the contours of her bodice. Finally, the tips of his fingers reached the bit of bare flesh that was so tantalizingly revealed by her dress. When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he squeezed her breasts as hard as he could. She let out another moan and he broke their kiss.

“Are you enjoying that?”

She nodded and rested her head against his. “Do it again”

He obliged, and she let out another squeal of delight. He massaged her breasts through her dress, making her sigh happily. He kissed her forehead, nose, lips, ears, and everywhere else he could. Almost without realizing it, she started tugging at his shirt, so, obligingly, he took his hands off her and pulled his shirt off over his head.

“ _Oh_ , you’re so…muscular!” She tentatively reached her hand out and touched his arm. It was a lie, but he seemed to appreciate it, especially when she ran her hand down his chest, stopping at his belt. “You’re the handsomest man I’ve ever seen!” she beamed before kissing him again. “Help me with mine, all right?”

She turned and lifted what little hair actually touched her back so that he could undo the finicky buttons on the back of her dress. He kissed her exposed skin as he slowly pushed the dress apart. She giggled as he undid the final button and reached around her, taking hold of her exposed breasts. She turned and kissed him.

“I think it might be easier if we were on the ground” she suggested.

“I think you’re absolutely right.”

They got off the bench and she lay down on the grass, her long skirt still covering the lower half of her body. Mordred joined her and she tugged his pants off.

“Oh, it’s massive” she wriggled her body in anticipation, making her luscious breasts jiggle slightly.

He sat up and slid her skirt off, leaving her completely naked, save for the flowers in her hair and a gold necklace. “Good lord, you’re stunning.”

“Make love to me, then.”

He got on top of her and sucked at her collarbone as she stroked his hair. He quickly moved down her body and started kissing her breasts. It felt wonderfully sexy, especially when he put his lips over her nipple and slowly ran his tongue across her sensitive tips. He gave her other breast equal attention and she groaned and stroked his hair. There was nothing amateurish or awkward about the way he did it; there was no overexcited biting, no slobbering or constant proclamations as to how good she tasted. It was just one purely pleasurable sensation following another.

He pulled away and stroked her hair again. “Do you want to…”

“Yes” she replied quickly, not knowing exactly what he was suggesting, but wanting to do anything with him. He got lay on his back next to her and deftly pulled her on top him. She’d never done it in that position before, but against all better judgment, she trusted him. She slowly lowered herself onto his hardened member, while he gently guided her with his hands on her hips. When he was fully inside her, he started thrusting gently. She gasped and felt herself bouncing up and down. He took one hand off her hip and started rubbing her clit. She came with a little shriek and he started thrusting harder. He made her come two more times in embarrassingly short succession. Soon, the attention he continued giving to her sensitive button was too much for her to bear, so she took his hand in hers and intertwined her fingers with his. He came soon after, with one final violent thrust upwards. They both remained still for a few moments, until she let go of his hand and got off him.

            She lay on her back, and he lay on his stomach propping himself up with his elbows to look at her.

“You know, I believe we are the two most beautiful people in all of Camelot.” He claimed. Normally she would have laughed or come up with a retort, but all she could say was, “I believe you’re right.” She intertwined her fingers with his again and looked at him. For once in his life, he might have been telling the truth. Not only were they beautiful individually, but together they were stunning, he with his pale skin and fair hair, and she with her dark skin and pitch black curls that rose above her head, giving her the appearance of having a halo.

“Would you care to make this a…permanent arrangement?” He gently stroked the side of her face with his finger.

“I don’t know.”

“Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Yes, probably.”

“Well, may I visit you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want you scaring off my unicorn again.”

“That’s very true. You know where I live, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir Mordred, I know where you live.”

“Then you should come visit me whenever you feel like it!”

“And how will I know there won’t be another woman there?”

“If there is, I shall throw her out.”

She laughed. “That seems awfully rude of you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you actually did it, though.” She rested her head against his arm. “I think I would like to visit you again.” She stated. No matter how many dreadful things she had heard about him, she couldn’t bear the thought that their first time together might also be their last. “We’ll see,” she added quickly. “Let’s just stay here a bit longer.”

He kissed her on the lips. “That’s a fine idea.”

 

 

           


	2. Chapter 2

            Lady Damalica took a deep breath and knocked on the heavy door in front of her.  She didn’t know why she was so nervous; it was only Sir Modred after all. Silly, preening, petty Mordred.

            “Yes, wha’ is it?” He opened the door, and she couldn’t help but smile. She could tell by his look of sleepy confusion that had clearly just woken up, in spite of the fact that it was well past nine. “Oh, Lady Damalica. Don’t you look pretty” He reached out and lightly flicked at her pearl earring.

            “I am sorry for waking you, Mordred, but I, um, well, I’ve got a present for you. And if you don’t like it, please tell me because I really want it to go to someone who will take good care of it.”

            “All right, I’m intrigued” He leaned against the doorframe and gave her that slight smile of his. She stepped aside and gestured at the plump, black pug dog on the floor. She watched Mordred’s face as it transformed from a look of practiced nonchalance into one of astonished joy.

            “No—is it—you’re really giving it to me?”

Lady Damalica nodded. “Well, there was a man who was selling them, and I saw this one, and I just.... thought you should have it.” She held out the small string that she had tied to his collar.

            “Well, I’m quite overwhelmed.” He took the string from her and knelt down beside the dog, who promptly stood up and wagged what little tail it had. “Does it have a name?”

            “No. I think it’s a boy, though, if that makes a difference.”

            “Well, of course. We’ve got to give it a properly masculine name, or else the other dogs might tease it. Not that I’ll allow him to fraternize with other dogs, of course.”

Damalica stifled a giggle imagining the fat little creature alongside the Lancelot’s hunting dogs. 

            “Sir Mordred, you should name him Sir Pugsalot” she laughed. “I’m sorry,” she laughed when she saw his unamused face. “I’m sorry, that was awful”

            “It was, because now no matter what else I decide to name him, he will forever and always be Sir Pugsalot in my mind.”

He picked Pugsalot up and analyzed his face. “I rather like it, though. He does look something like Lancelot, can’t you see it?”

            “Oh, absolutely”

            “Has he been fed today?”

            “You know, I’m not sure. I don’t even know what dogs eat.”

            “Oh, my mother had millions of dogs, I know just what to do. Let’s take him to the kitchen and see what the cooks can do.” He put Pugsalot down. “Come on, boy” Mordred took a few steps forward and gave the leash a light tug. Pugsalot bounded forward, and the two of them dashed along the hall, quickly joined by Lady Damalica. Pugsalot was petrified by the stairs to the lower floors, so Mordred had to pick him up and carry him, before setting him down once more. The smell of the kitchens was already heavy in the air, prompting the three of them to run even faster until they arrived, breathless at the door.

            “‘S there anything I can help you with?” the elderly cook asked after giving them a moment to catch their breath.

            “Yes, ma’am. You see, Sir Lancelot told me to tell you that he won’t be having his lunch with the rest of the knights today.”

            “No?”

            “Uh, no. You see, he’s dreadfully ill and simply can’t leave his room, so I offered to take his lunch up to him.”

            “Oughtn’t you to call the doctor?”

            “No ma’am, you know how he is; he insists on suffering in silence and fighting it alone.”

            “Right.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll get you a basket, then.”

            “Most kind of you, ma’am; I know he’ll appreciate it.”

            Damalica stifled a giggle as the old woman packed up the meal with a practiced skill and speed.

            “And he asked for a little extra chicken. He thinks it’ll be good for his stomach.”

            “I’m sure he does.”

            “Pastries and wine, too, along with some grapes and whatever other kind of fruit you have.”

            She finished, and Mordred and Damalica were barely out of the door when they both began laughing again. They hurried back to his room, and spreading the feast out on his bed. They gave most of the chicken to Pugsalot, and gorged themselves on the frui, pastries, and wine. Before long, Pugsalot was sleeping in the corner, atop a temporary bed of Mordred’s shirts, and the young couple was making love.

 

            “I love you” her murmured afterwards, kissing her cheek. “You know, I’d really like to see you as much as possible, if that would be agreeable. Pugsalot needs a female influence in his life.”

            “Mordred, I--”

            “Oh no, you can call me Mordy if you like.”

            “ _Mordy_ , I—I love you too.” She did love him, in a way. She knew, of course, how destructive he was, how he was constantly trying to undermine Arthur and everything he had fought for in creating Camelot. Foolishly, she’d thought that giving him something to love would change him, but she realized that of course it wouldn’t. He wasn’t starved for love, he was abounding with it, and that was what made him dangerous. He had his own ideals he was fighting for, amoral and anarchistic as they might have been, and he was prepared to fight for them in his own lazy, insolent way.

            “I should buy you pugs more often” she yawned, before drifting to sleep.

           

           

 


End file.
